


My Captive Bird, Beloved

by Euterpein



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Demon!Aziraphale, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Nesting, Nesting Urges, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Post-Canon, Scenting, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wings, angel!Crowley, reverse good omens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 16:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30075030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euterpein/pseuds/Euterpein
Summary: It started as an itch.Not long after the first day of the rest of their lives, Gadreel starts to feel something new.It's surprising, and not entirely welcome, but he gets through it with a little help from a certain book-loving demon...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Ezra/Gadreel (Reverse Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 68
Collections: MoFu Bingo 2021, Ouida’s Reverse Book Omens





	My Captive Bird, Beloved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MovesLikeBucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/gifts), [OuidaMForeman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OuidaMForeman/gifts).



> Title is from the poem _Nests_ (1924) by Meridel Le Sueur.
> 
> This fic was written for the Monsterfucker Bingo prompt "Nesting Urges." It's based on the Reverse Omens world dreamt up by Ouida, see the collection for more!

It started as an itch.

He’d first noticed it about three days after they’d moved into the cottage, when the boxes he wouldn’t let Ezra unpack via miracle were still piled in perilous towers in nearly every corner. It was an itch just under where his wings were, or would have been, had he been manifesting them in any physical sense. It wasn’t terribly strong, but it was _persistent_. Gadreel found himself scratching at it idly throughout the day, twisting around in increasingly improbable ways to reach the difficult spot, even going as far as rubbing his shoulder blade against a doorframe when he happened to be passing through one with his hands full of boxes.

It was bothersome, but it didn’t last; it mostly faded after that first day, so he let it pass without comment or concern. This was the first part of the rest of their lives, after all. There was plenty to do, to unpack, to--ahem-- _explore_ together, here in their little home by the sea.

By the time evening had rolled around and Ezra asked him how the unpacking had gone, he’d forgotten about the itching altogether. 

\-----------------------------

It happened again the next week. Gadreel frowned as he shifted back on his knees in the garden, feeling the crawling itch of it just beneath the skin. It was a hot, prickling sensation, and not limited to his back--he felt it in his chest, in his slightly shaking hands. 

“Alright, darling?” Ezra called to him, voice drifting lazily in the hazy mid-afternoon heat. He’d curled up on the back porch, preferring to sip at his tea and watch Gadreel over his book in the shade rather than braving the heat, the lazy beast.

Gadreel couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’m alright. It’s the heat, I think.”

“Well, come and get out of it, then,” Ezra said, patting the empty space next to him on the wicker settee. He smiled as Gadreel padded over to him and curled up in his arms, pressing a kiss into his dark hair as he rested his head on Ezra’s chest. 

The deep-seated itch didn’t go away, not entirely, but something about the rumbling purr from Ezra’s chest set him at ease enough that he could drift, contended, to sleep.

\-----------------------------

It just wouldn’t _stop_. 

Gadreel had awoken that morning to an empty bed and a note:

_Got a tip about a first-edition Tolkein. Off to London. Back by supper._

_-E_

Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered him. He’d spent the better part of six thousand years waking up to a demonless bed, after all. It wasn’t even the first time since they’d moved to the South Downs; Gadreel was much more fond of sleep than Ezra was, as a rule. 

Something about this time rubbed him the wrong way, though. Tears sprang to his eyes as he read the note, the tidy handwriting smudging slightly as one fell to wet the paper. He blinked in surprise, wiping at his face, feeling ridiculous for being so sensitive over something so trivial.

 ****He tried to distract himself by hauling himself out of bed, marching down to make himself a cup of coffee with the extremely high-end and horribly fiddly (not to mention eyewateringly expensive) espresso machine that Ezra had bought him as a moving-in present **[1]**, but the coffee just made him feel even more jittery than he usually did. He wandered out to the garden for a while, but the feeling of dirt on his hands and sun on his skin felt inexplicably _wrong_ somewhere deep in his brain and he quickly abandoned it, wandering back inside with an increasing sense of agitation. The hot, prickly sensation was beginning to creep back into his awareness and he scowled, marching back up to their bedroom.

After a few moments of standing around, just looking at their empty bed, Gadreel decided a long shower was in order. He shed his clothes and padded off to the en-suite, hissing at the shocking cold of the tile against his scales. The water that cascaded on him from their ridiculously opulent showerhead was soothing against his itchy-hot skin and he groaned, curling to try and cover as much of himself in its hot spray as he possibly could. 

****He stayed in the shower until he couldn’t possibly stand the heat anymore **[2]** and stepped out feeling, if not _better_ , at least less like he was going to crawl out of his skin at any moment. He padded, still dripping, back into the bedroom, only to be confronted once again by the sight of the empty bed before him. 

****Something hot flared in his chest and he scowled down at the bed, hastily made from where he had rolled out of it not long ago. He ran his fingers over the quilt on top **[3]**, feeling the dips and grooves in the fabric where the stitches ran through. 

Gadreel found himself leaning down to the quilt and taking a deep sniff, hunting for any hint of Ezra left in the soft fabric. He opened his mouth and tried again, letting his much more sensitive snake’s anatomy take in the particulates, chasing the deep scent of him. It was there; the dark, spicy notes of his cologne, the delicate scent of his shampoo. Even the slightest hint of sweat and musk from their lovemaking the night before. Gadreel’s own scent was entwined with it all the way through, wound indelibly with Ezra’s, and it made something in his heart sing.

He climbed up onto the bed, shamelessly burying his nose in the quilt. He chased Ezra’s scent to his pillows, where the shampoo smell was stronger, but Gadreel didn’t mind. He felt like he needed that scent, needed to smell the two of them together, needed _proof_ that Ezra was his and that he was Ezra’s.

The smell of Ezra on the pillow quickly faded and he whined shamelessly, bereft. That hot, tight, itchy sensation felt as though it was threatening to overtake him and he felt almost feverish, all thoughts pushing themselves from his head except _Ezra_ and _mine_. In a sudden burst of energy he rolled himself off the bed and staggered over to the wardrobe, throwing open the doors. He grabbed at the hems of Ezra’s things and pressed them to his face, seeking the scent of him like a hit, like a cooling balm on the fire that he was too addled to realize was burning within him. He gathered them up in his arms and wobbled back to the bed with the precarious pile. 

He looked down at the mound of them, barely comprehending what he was seeing. He knew only that it wasn’t _good_ _enough_ , wasn’t _big enough_ , he needed--

He turned towards the door to the bedroom. Uncaring that he was still naked save for the towel slung low around his hips he marched through it, turning his head this way and that, following his nose.

He was on a _mission_. 

\--------------------

 ****Ezra sighed as the cottage came into view, finally. It had been a long day; the book lead had turned into a bit of a cat-and-mouse game **[4], **complete with not one but _two_ extremely unhelpful supposed sellers and a few other men he had a suspicion might be working for the mob. He thanked the cabbie, tipped generously, and climbed out into the wet English evening, turning the collar of his coat up against the cold. 

His relief at being home faltered the moment he stepped through the front door. 

It looked as though someone had ransacked the place. Or, perhaps more accurately, had _searched_ the place, with seemingly little care or discernment. Ezra’s pulse spiked in his throat. Quietly, he looked around, keeping his steps muted as he peered down the dark hallway into the sitting room. All seemed quiet, both to his human senses and his demonic; whoever they’d been, they were long gone now. 

As he reached out his senses to the aether he could feel Gadreel’s grace above him, from the direction of the bedroom. He was alive--Ezra spared a moment to say something that might have passed dangerously close to a prayer--but unconscious. Asleep? Knocked out? He couldn’t tell from here.

Still moving slowly and carefully in case an enemy had warded themselves against him, he crept his way up the stairs on miraculously silent feet. 

He wasn’t sure what exactly he expected to find. Had it been human robbers, Gadreel should have been able to fight back without any problems--he was still an Angel of the Lord, after all, even if the ‘of the Lord’ part had become something of a technicality. If it had been Heaven or Hell here to teach them both a little lesson...

Carefully, quietly, he tiptoed down the dark hallway. There was soft lamplight spilling out of the open door to their bedroom and he approached it, fighting down the urge to rush in and make sure Gadreel was safe. 

Finally, after what seemed like an age, he was close enough to peer inside. 

He took in a sharp breath.

Gadreel was there, alright, as was what seemed to be half the contents of the cottage. He’d apparently taken every soft item he could find and thrown them into a pile on top of the bed, arranging them around himself until they spilled over the edge and made it hard to see where the bed ended and the floor began. Ezra could see clothes--both his and Gadreel’s--pillows, even _curtains_ tucked into the mix.

And in the middle of it all was Gadreel. He was sleeping, as Ezra had sensed. He was also _naked_. 

Ezra just blinked at the absurdity of the scene for a moment. He took in Gadreel’s curled form, bathed in the light from the bedside lamp that had somehow survived whatever rampage the angel had put it through. He looked oddly peaceful, cocooned by such chaos.

“Angel,” Ezra said, softly. He was reasonably reassured now that they weren’t under threat from outside forces, but that didn’t mean all was well. Collecting everything in their home and arranging them into a giant pile wasn’t what he’d call _normal behaviour_. 

Gadreel stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, those long fingers clenching and unclenching against their soft cocoon. One golden eye peeked open, focusing blearily on Ezra from across the room, then widened.

“Ezra!” Gadreel’s eyes were fever-bright, his cheeks flushed. As he pushed himself upwards Ezra could tell that he was struggling to control his own form as slight tremors tracked their way through him. It didn’t go far to put his mind at ease.

“Are you alright, Gadreel?” Ezra said, moving across the room towards him. “What’s going on? Why didn’t you text me?”

“Text you? Gadreel repeated, almost absently. He blinked and shook his head, as if clearing it. “I...honestly, I’m not sure. Never occurred to me.”

Ezra moved over to him, no longer able to hold himself back. He put a hand to Gadreel’s cheek, only intending to reassure himself that he was still there, still alive, but Gadreel reacted strongly. He whined quietly, pushing his flushed skin more firmly into the gentle touch

Something niggled at the back of Ezra’s mind. He tried to push down the reaction of his body to the sight of Gadreel like this, flushed and bared and open for him, so responsive, to focus on what was going on. Why did this all seem so _familiar...?_

Gadreel whined again. He pulled Ezra close and buried his nose in his neck, plastering himself against Ezra’s front as he took in the scent of him, more than a little desperation in his movements.

It clicked.

“Gadreel,” Ezra said, swallowing against the feeling of Gadreel’s... _excitement_ against his own increasingly desperate need, “are you _nesting_?”

Gadreel didn’t seem to hear him for a moment, too busy pushing at the shoulders of Ezra’s jacket to bare more of him to his senses. After a moment, however, he pulled back. “Nesting?” he asked, frowning in confusion. “Angels don’t nest.”

“Not anymore,” Ezra agreed, bemused, “But they did, once. Do you not remember?” Feeling that he needed to get a little distance to have this conversation (Gadreel’s hands were still buried in his jacket, warm and inviting and beyond distracting), he gathered the angel’s wrists into his hand and kissed the knuckles, soothing away the soft whine the cool rush of air earned him. “How do you feel?”

Gadreel huffed, but let Ezra get a good look at him with little more than a pout. “I’m _fine_ , Ezra. I’m not hurt, or out of my mind, or anything, I just--” he stirred, looking for the right words, “I just _need you_. Here, with me.”

“I’m here,” Ezra assured him. “Are you certain there’s nothing else? I mean, you must admit the...fabric collection is a bit odd.” He gave a meaningful look at the giant cocoon currently occupying almost half of their bedroom.

Gadreel looked a bit sheepish at that. “Alright, so maybe ‘nesting’ isn’t the _least_ applicable term you could use. They just...smelled like you. I woke up and you weren’t there and it just felt so _wrong_ , and having your scent--our scents--it helped.”

Ezra nodded, understanding. “I’m terribly sorry, my love. I’d have never left if I’d known.”

“Don’t apologize,” Gadreel insisted, golden eyes wide. “Not your fault.”

“Still.” Ezra laid another kiss to the thin hands he was still holding between his own and released them, then stood. He slid his jacket off of his shoulders, draping it carefully off the back of a nearby chair.

Gadreel watched, his breath hitching. His nakedness did nothing to hide his excitement, which had been evident from the moment Ezra had touched him, and he seemed entirely unembarrassed by that fact. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“You said you needed me,” Ezra explained, casually. He wasn’t entirely reassured--Gadreel was right, angels hadn’t _nested_ since long before he had taken a one-way trip to eternal damnation--but at least he thought he could leave hitting the books until later.

 _Much_ later.

He stripped down until he was every bit as naked as Gadreel, as bare as Adam and Eve had been the day they had first met. Gadreel was on him the instant he got within arm’s reach of the bed. He ran long fingers through the thatch of fur on his chest, drawing him down into a deep kiss that made them both moan. Ezra went easily, following as Gadreel fell into the soft embrace of the nest behind him and perching over him carefully.

They hadn’t been doing this very long--practically no time at all, in the scheme of their relationship--but Ezra could already tell the kind of mood Gadreel was in by the way he gasped and sighed, the way he clutched at Ezra’s broad shoulders as deep bruises were sucked into the thin skin of his neck. He wanted Ezra on top of him, around him, in him, completely and entirely at Gadreel’s service.

Ezra couldn’t have been happier to oblige. 

Still, it wouldn’t do to make assumptions. “I’d like you to roll over, my dear,” he whispered into Gadreel’s ear as the angel writhed beneath him, already almost lost in sensation. “I’d like you to roll over and let me take care of you, make you feel so good...” He hesitated, waiting for Gadreel’s reaction, but he needn’t have worried. Gadreel whined again and rolled over as quickly as he was able, that slim, serpentine body of his on full display.

“That’s right,” Ezra said, unable to help the deep rumbling that was starting up in his chest at the sight of Gadreel spread out beneath him, needy and pliant and _his_. He lowered himself down onto his elbows, pressing his chest to Gadreel’s back and his cock to the dip of his spine just to hear him cry out at the pressure. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you, my dear?” He brushed a kiss to the side of Gadreel’s neck, then followed with his teeth. “My wonderful snake, my pretty little bird...you’ll bring your wings out for me, won’t you, angel?”

Gadreel moaned something unintelligible at that but complied with the implied request, his pure-white wings bursting forth from his shoulder blades and stretching out to his sides, nearly blanketing the whole nest in their shade. Ezra smiled, all teeth, and did the same, bringing his own black wings down tightly onto Gadreel’s. Pinned in place, and just where the both of them wanted him to be.

Gadreel was already beyond words. Under normal circumstances that might have caused Ezra some concern, but considering that he’d been more than half gone from just a few touches earlier he figured it was likely just the nesting urges manifesting themselves. From what he could remember, nesting wasn’t a sexual drive _per se_ , but sensual contact between partners was needed, sensitivity increased. The nesting angel needed their partner close to fulfill the urge to make the place they were in a place for both of them, as one.

To make it a _home_.

“I’m going to open you up,” he whispered into the back of Gadreel’s already-bruised neck, “and then I’m going to have you. I’m going to make you forget a time we were ever apart, forget that you were ever anything but _mine_.” He rolled his hips downwards just to make clear his point, pressed his wings down against Gadreel’s in a show of force he knew would drive him wild.

“Yours,” Gadreel gasped, clawing desperately at the soft pile beneath him. “Yours, Ezra, please--”

“Shh, love,” Ezra soothed him, running his hands down Gadreel’s sides as he leveraged himself into a better position, pressing Gadreel back down with a hand between his wings as he tried to follow. “I know you are. And I’m yours, always, as long as you’ll have me.” He turned his attention between Gadreel’s legs, at the dark curls and soft curves he found there. “Goodness. You _are_ lovely, aren’t you?”

Gadreel just whined again, burying his face into the nest and rocking his hips back to try and entice Ezra to get closer, to give him _more_. 

Carefully, after double-checking that his claws had been sheathed properly, Ezra ran a finger down the lower part of Gadreel’s spine and between the globes of his arse, just barely whispering over his entrance. He pulled his hand away only to replace it a moment later with a miraculously warm, slick substance dripping over his skin and down onto Gadreel. He toyed with the idea of torturing his poor angel for a while, teasing and tracing and not giving him what he really needed until he begged prettily for him. They’d done it once, not too long ago, and it had been the sweetest music Ezra had ever heard in his long life. 

Gadreel stirred again, whining, and Ezra decided against it immediately. He was too vulnerable right now. He needed to be taken care of; Ezra could tease him later. Instead he brought his now-slick finger to Gadreel’s entrance, rubbing a sweet pressure just around the entrance to give him a chance to anticipate his intentions.

Gadreel’s hands clenched and unclenched, his own claws catching at the soft fibers of--whatever that paisley pattern was from. Probably one of the garish shirts Ezra hated that he loved on Gadreel so much. 

Ezra dipped one finger into Gadreel’s tight heat, reveling in the gasp it drew from his throat. He pushed in slowly, gently, spreading the slick around as best he could. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the meat of Gadreel’s arse, to the soft skin of his thigh. Then, he pulled his finger out and pushed back in with two, opening him up with care.

Gadreel writhed and moaned and whimpered as Ezra fingered him open. He didn’t seem to be focused on his own pleasure; he wasn’t trying to rub himself off where his cock was trapped between his body and the nest’s embrace. Rather, he seemed focused on the places where Ezra was touching him, where his now-three fingers were buried to the hilt inside him. “Ezra,” he managed after what seemed like an age, panting and desperate, “Ezra, please, I can’t--I need you, _please_ \--!”

Ezra was beyond the point where he could resist such a heartfelt plea. Gadreel’s pleasure was resplendent, _holy_ , and it burned so bright he swore it should have seared him right through. With as much care as he could muster with his entire _being_ focused on getting inside of Gadreel _right now, thank you_ he pulled his fingers out, once again settling his weight over Gadreel’s. He pressed the angel’s lighter frame down to the nest, wondering if Gadreel’s instincts were messing with his own reactions--did angels have pheromones? He felt half lost himself, _needing_ to get inside him, to rub his scent all over his angel, his _mate_. Whether it was the nesting pheromones or some latent feline trait of his own, he practically growled as he guided his cock to Gadreel’s entrance, pressing himself into that tight heat in slick little bursts that made the both of them gasp.

His fingers intertwined themselves with Gadreel’s where they were pressed by his head, between their wings, holding him down and giving himself the leverage he needed to press himself as close as he could possibly be into Gadreel’s unresisting body.

They rocked together for a long time. Seconds and minutes seemed to blend together in a hot, slippery crawl as they moved, slow and sensuous and then desperate, changing again and again as if by some unspoken agreement between them. Gadreel came once, again, but begged Ezra to keep going, to keep filling him up and making him his, making them each other’s.

Ezra would have kept going forever if Gadreel had wanted it. 

Eventually Gadreel came a third time, writhing violently in Ezra’s iron-tight grip for nearly a full minute before falling boneless, utterly and completely spent. “Don’t stop,” he begged weakly as Ezra stilled, not wanting to push him into overstimulation but nearly desperate for his own release, “You promised you were going to have me, Ezra. I’m yours, come on.”

The angle was all wrong for kissing his lips but Ezra pressed kisses to every inch of him he could reach as he renewed his thrusting, slowly but steadily building up a punishing pace as he chased his release. Gadreel whispered tired encouragements to him, clenching his muscles and spreading his wings in a sweetly submissive pose that made something in Ezra’s heart clench and something in his mind _burn_. He came, hard, pressing his full weight to Gadreel’s back as he emptied himself, crying out and twitching with the intensity of the long-delayed orgasm.

Several long seconds passed as they laid there, just catching their breath. Ezra carefully disentangled his fingers from Gadreel’s and rolled to his side, maneuvering his wings to hang off the side of the bed. 

Gadreel, somewhat reluctantly, rolled over as well. He seemed hesitant, now, unsure in the aftermath of such an intense moment. One hand reached out to touch Ezra’s chest, but he paused. “Can I...?” he asked, almost shy.

Ezra huffed and reached out to him, drawing him close to his chest and resting his chin on top of those coal-black curls. “Anything you want, my dear, you know that,” he scolded, without heat. “Anything.” He felt rather than saw the small smile that curled across Gadreel’s lips at that.

“I believe you,” Gadreel said, simply.

“Good,” Ezra replied, teasingly brisk, “because while lying might be in the job description, I should be quite upset with myself if you believed me to be anything but sincere about that. Or about how I feel about you.”

Gadreel buried his face into the fur of Ezra’s chest, though whether overwhelmed or embarrassed Ezra couldn’t tell. “How are you doing now?” he asked.

“Like I could sleep for about a week,” Gadreel said, honestly. “And like I’d _really_ like to do that again some time.”

“Anytime you like,” Ezra assured him, pressing a kiss to his forehead and tucking him even tighter, refusing to be ashamed of the pleased rumbling he knew Gadreel could feel there. “Anytime you like.”

They drifted off to sleep like that, tangled in their impromptu nest and in each other, and they didn’t leave again for a very, _very_ long time. 

1 While they didn’t strictly _need_ money, Ezra’s work had forced him to make a few forays into the world of finances over the years. They had never been anything much, but _nothing much_ gaining interest over _thousands of years_ (much to the bafflement of the financial institutions handling said funds) could add up to _quite a lot_ , _actually_. Besides, it was nice to know they weren’t going to accidentally destabalize an economy via miraculous inflation...again.[return to text]

2 Neither Gadreel nor Ezra had more than a passing notion of what a hot water heater was or how one worked, which is why there was not actually one in the cottage. Nevertheless, the water knew better than to leave the tap anything less than perfectly hot or cold, depending on the task it was set to. [return to text]

3 The quilt was a gift from Madame Tracy, with whom Ezra had gotten on like a house on fire . She had made it during the weekly craft nights they’d had in the months since the end of the world that wasn’t, presumably in return for the endless knobbly knitted scarves and sweaters that Ezra turned out at the same time. [return to text]

4 A concept that was perhaps less unfamiliar to him than he would be willing to admit to. [return to text]


End file.
